


Romanian Bucky Barnes

by JadeMoon



Series: Bucky's Angel [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes's Trigger Words, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, Framed, Journals, Killing, Romanian Bucky Barnes, Running, Russian, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28921005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeMoon/pseuds/JadeMoon
Summary: He thinks he's safe in Romania, but nothing is ever as it seems.
Series: Bucky's Angel [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118510
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Romanian Bucky Barnes

Bucky stares at the image in front of him, a look of shock on his face. He hears more people coming through and pulls his ball cap lower over his eyes, avoiding eye contact with anyone. They pass through, muttering their oos and ahhs as they go. He looks at the image again trying to get over what he’s seeing. It’s him. A mirror image of him. Maybe not exactly, his hair is longer now, but…

“James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes,” he reads to himself. His mouth hangs open a little bit. Next to him is Steve. Steve Rogers. 

“Best friends from the school yard to the battlefield.” Someone else is reading this. He looks away from them, gripping the booklet Rayne had given him tighter. 

“Think Cap misses his best bud?” another one asks.

“Cap can get anyone to be his best bud. Hell, I’d sign up,” someone else jokes. He wants to scream at them. Tell them he’s Steve Rogers best friend. That he’s alive. That he’s...he’s…

“What the hell kind of name is Bucky anyway?”

They walk away before Bucky loses his cool. He raises his eyes again to stare at himself. 

James Buchanan Barnes. That’s him. That is his name. That’s why she told him to come here. He had to find out for himself. He had to see for himself. 

He hears more people coming through and decides it’s in his best interest to vacate before someone  _ does _ recognize him. 

* * *

He’s made it to Romania. The fake passport and ID Rayne had given him worked like a charm. He had a moment or two where he thought for sure the jig was up, but then nothing happened. He’s out to keep it that way. Keeping his head low, living as far under the radar as possible. 

He’s found an apartment and furnished it as best he can, cautious of his spending. Rayne had given him an excess of money, but he’s leary of spending it, not wanting to draw attention to himself. 

He loves the jacket she gave him. It’s warm and it reminds him of her. But that’s not the only thing. No. And it’s not even his favorite thing she gave to him. 

He sits on the couch and looks at the small, red leather journal. He’d found it amongst the things she’d packed for him. He’s been reluctant to open it until now, only touching the soft leather and loving how it feels. He wonders why she would put this in amongst the clothes, the Ruger (which he tossed into the river with the ammo before he left New York), extra rations, maps, water…

Tonight he decides to open it. There’s something he wants to put in there. A picture he had clipped from the newspaper of Steve in his goofy outfit. He smiles a little as he carefully opens the journal. To his surprise there’s a note on the inside of the cover. A note from her.

_ I hope that you reading this means you’re safe  _

_ and you’re okay. I thought this little journal  _

_ might come in handy as you start to remember. _

_ Hold onto your new memories and write down the old ones.  _

_ I wish you all the world. Stay safe. _

_ Forever yours _

She’d signed it with a little heart and the letter R for her name. He touches the handwritten note. He remembers her softness, her warmth, her smile. He misses her. He misses Steve. He misses himself. 

He places the picture of Steve carefully inside the journal. Emotions tear at him. Memories eat at him. He’s going to be destroyed from the inside out, he thinks. 

He finds a pen and starts to write. He writes about Rayne, never mentioning her by name lest someone find this notebook. But he writes everything down because he’s terrified he’ll forget her and he does not want to do that. She was there when he needed someone the most. She probably saved him from getting caught. She tended his wounds, soothed his mind, gave him the softness and gentleness he didn’t know he needed so badly. And their last night together…

He writes everything down about their time together and as he finishes writing in great detail about their last night his balls are throbbing. 

He closes the journal and leans back on the couch, sliding his hand into his jeans. He remembers how good she felt when he slid into her heat. How slick and warm and inviting she’d been. How each thrust brought him closer and closer to the stars. The way she would moan, the way she held him to her, locked in place as if they were meant for one another, the feel of her breasts pressed against his chest, the look in her beautiful green eyes…

He thrusts into his hand one last time and he spills over, covering his hand, soaking through his boxers. He wipes his hand on his pants and then gets up to wash himself off, trying to ignore the nagging loneliness he feels, trying to ignore the memories that are still trying to devour him alive. 

He comes back and goes to the sink. He fills a pot full of water to boil for coffee. It’s a small luxury he allows himself to have. That and the plums. 

He opens the journal again and re-reads what she wrote, a small smile on his lips. Even now she’s trying to take care of him. He wants his freedom. He treasures it. He just wishes she was here with him. 

* * *

It’s been a few months since he arrived in Romania. He looks at himself in the mirror and sighs. 

“My name…” he stops, the remnants of last night’s nightmares still lingering. “My name is James Barnes.” 

He says it softly, testing the words like he has every morning since he arrived. He’s gotten better at it. Gotten better at saying his own name even if he is using a different alias than the one Rayne gave him. He thought that would be safer. But he still needs to remind himself of who he is. Who he  _ really _ is, lest he forget himself entirely again. 

“My name...is James Buchanan Barnes,” he says more firmly this time. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t announce it. He knows that would be asking for trouble. 

He rubs his chin roughly and looks at the dark circles under his eyes. The nightmares are brutal, they strangle him at night when he closes his eyes. He hates going to sleep. He hates dreaming. 

He pulls his shirt on and then his jeans. He decides to go out for a little while, get another newspaper, maybe some more plums. 

He gets back later than he’d anticipated. He unlocks the door quietly, cautiously and peers in. Then slowly he enters and quietly pushes the door closed behind him. He locks the door and does a sweep of the apartment, making sure nothing is out of place, nothing has been added, and no one is lurking. When he’s satisfied that everything is in order he relaxes, but only a little. 

He puts the plums away and sits on the couch. He’s tired. Exhausted, to be honest. He can’t sleep much at night because of the nightmares. He leans back and rests his head on the back of the couch. His eyes drift close. 

_ She’s here. In Romania. With him. They’re living together in the little apartment. She’s smiling at him, green eyes sparkling as she cooks something for them on the tiny stovetop. She has the table set for them. Just the two of them. He comes up behind her, puts his arms around her and presses his lips to her neck. She moans softly. He turns the stove off. She laughs and tells him dinner won’t cook if the stove is off. He tells her he doesn’t want dinner, he wants her. She turns to face him and he kisses her deeply, passionately. She moans softly in his ear. He picks her up and carries her to their bed. The bed they share. He lays her down gently, kissing her as he strips her slowly of her clothes. She’s beautiful, hands on her breasts, legs closed at the knee, she looks almost like a pinup girl only better. He takes his clothes off and they make love, her moans and pleas make him burn all the more for her. But then something changes. He flips her over, metal hand at her throat, tears in her eyes as she pleads for him to let her go. He screams something unintelligible at her, spittle flying and hitting her in the face. She’s terrified. His hand tightens more and she gasps for air. He screams at her again and all she can do is shake her head no, tears streaming from her scared green eyes. He shoves a gun in her mouth, so far back it makes her gag. He screams at her again, she tries to plead around the gun, tries to push him away, when he pulls the trigger and there is red. Only red. Everywhere. _

Bucky leans over the side of the couch and vomits onto the floor. His heart is racing and he’s crying. Literally sobbing in hysterics right now. 

This was the worst nightmare yet. 

* * *

It’s later on the day now. He had to get out of the apartment. He had to get fresh air. And so now he’s outside in the cool Romanian air, trying to purge the nightmarish visions from his mind. 

He misses Rayne. He misses her so goddamn much and this nightmare has him shaken to his very core. 

He hears sirens racing in his direction and he freezes. They pass him by without so much as a second glance. He blows out the lungful of air he’d been holding and that’s when he catches the guy at the newsstand staring at him. He sees Bucky look back at him and the man takes off. 

Bucky crosses the street and looks at the newspaper. His heart stops. 

He’s on the front page. He’s on the front page and he’s been accused of killing the King of Wakanda in Germany. 

Other people are looking at him now. He’s been compromised. He makes a beeline for his apartment. It’s time to go. 

* * *

He gets back to his apartment and sees the door is open. He enters slowly. 

Someone is inside, looking through one of his journals. He recognizes the shield. Captain America. Steve Rogers.

Fear settles on him like a shroud. He steps inside and approaches slowly. Steve turns around to face him. They stare at each other. Bucky can hear someone telling something in the comm in Steve’s ear but he can’t make out what’s being said. 

“Do you know who I am?”

“You’re Steve. I saw your picture in a museum,” he lies. Steve shakes his head no. 

“You’re lying. I know you’re scared and you should be- -” 

He hears more chatter in Steve’s comms. 

“They’re coming for you. They don’t plan on taking you alive,” Steve tells him. There’s an urgency in his voice and Bucky knows his time has come. 

“That’s good. That’s smart,” Bucky says softly. But he doesn’t plan on going without a fight. Rayne wouldn’t want him to give up and he damn sure doesn’t want to give in.

“Come with me…” Steve starts to say but the door bursts open and shots are fired. He holds his left hand up, repelling the bullets. More soldiers break through. Steve uses his shield to cover them. Bucky sees soldiers coming in around the window. He throws Steve backward out the window, knocking the soldiers over and getting Steve out of his way. He grabs his backpack and runs out of the apartment. 

Soldiers are flanking the stairs. Steve is coming after him. Bucky will have to fight for his freedom if he wants to keep it. He nearly kills one of the soldiers and Steve saves him but gives him a scolding look.

“Come on, man,” Steve growls at him. Bucky pays him no mind. He’s got to get out of here and fast. He jumps over the banister and catches himself with a loud, painful yelp almost four floors down. He swings over the banister and then kicks in the next apartment door that leads outside. He jumps through their window to the next roof over and continues to run. 

He jumps to the next roof and hears a chopper overhead. He makes the mistake of looking up and that’s when he’s tackled by a man in a leather catsuit. 

He’s stronger than Bucky had anticipated but it’s the claws that scare the living hell out of him. 

“You killed my father,” the man snarls. 

“No...I...didn’t…” Bucky gasps around the hand trying to choke him. 

“Then why did you run!” 

Bucky flips him over and the man lunges again, claws out, ready to shred Bucky’s throat open. He’s tackled suddenly, knocked over sideways. 

“Go! Run!” 

It can’t be. It can’t be her. 

He hesitates. She’s grappling with the cat man.

“RUN!” she screams at him. He takes off, glancing over his shoulder once to see her go down as she continues to hold the cat man. He runs now. Runs for his life. 

But in the end he gets caught. Even with Steve trying to help, he gets caught. And the cat man? Turns out is the former King of Wakanda’s son, T’Challa. 

But where is Rayne? He looks around as he and Steve are surrounded, looking to see if she’s there, looking to see if she’s okay...but she isn’t there.

They’re taken into custody, he and Steve. Steve is a wanted criminal now. And it’s Bucky’s fault. It’s his fault. 

They take him to a base of some kind. It may as well be a HYDRA base for all Bucky cares right now. He hears them talking, telling Steve that Bucky is dangerous, that he can’t be trusted, that he’s a monster. All things Bucky knows to be true. 

They have him in a room, in some kind of restraint device. He’s terrified of what will happen to him, to Steve...what happened to Rayne?

A man comes in and sits down at the desk in front of the contraption they have him in. He has a small book that he opens, very similar to the journals he’s been buying. Similar to the journal Rayne had given him. 

His heart aches. He’s gotten Steve in trouble with his friends and he has no idea what happened to Rayne. T’Challa was there, but not Rayne. Did he...did he…

“Let’s begin, shall we?” the man at the desk says to him. A sudden chill grips Bucky. Something isn’t right here. He can feel it…

_ "Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать, Рассвет, Печь…” _

“Please...no...stop…” Bucky pleads, lip trembling. He knows these words. Knows what they will do to him. He doesn’t want to do this again. Not again. Please god no...

_ “...Девять, Добросердечный, Возвращение на родину, Один, Товарный вагон. Солдат?" _

* * *

He wakes up feeling like he’s been through a hurricane. He looks to his left and sees his arm clamped tight in an industrial vice. And he knows. He knows he did something against his will.

“What did I do?” he asks, looking up. He sees Steve looking pained and worried and sorry.

“Which Bucky are we dealing with?” he asks. There’s another man, looking incredulous at him. 

He looks at Steve and he forces a smile. He touches the metal on his left arm. 

“Your mom’s name is Sarah...you used to put newspaper in your shoes…” He remembers these things, pleasant memories of things he’d thought he’d forgotten. He smiles more genuinely now. Steve’s eyes soften and his arms drop to his sides. 

“Oh so that’s it? He says some things and we’re all good now?” the other man demands. 

“Steve…”

Steve lets him go and Bucky hangs his head in shame. 

“Steve...I’m sorry...he said those goddamn words…” 

“We can’t stay here,” the other man says. “They’re going to be looking for us.”

“Get the car. We’ll be out in a minute.”

“Make it quick,” the other man tells Steve. Steve nods and watches the other man leave. 

“Steve…” Bucky begins. “I’m sorry…”

“I know, pal. I know. But now we’ve got bigger problems…the guy who triggered those...those words...we don’t know who he is…”

“He wants the others.”

“Others?” Steve asks.

“The other winter soldiers,” Bucky replies bleakly. “The others like me.”

* * *

They’re on a jet now, he and Steve. On their way to Siberia to stop Zemo from unleashing hell on Earth. If he wakes up the other soldiers…

Bucky looks down at his hands. So much blood on his hands now. So much he’ll never be able to atone for. 

“All those things that happened...that wasn’t you, Buck,” Steve tells him. Bucky chokes back the tears. 

“But I did it,” he tells Steve. There’s silence now between the two men. He looks at his hands again. 

Rayne. Oh god...Rayne.

He looks at his hands and a teardrop spills from his eye. 

He’s responsible for her death, too. 

  
  
  



End file.
